Augusta Longbottom
by heggyy
Summary: Augusta Longbottom is fighting her own battle.


Writing about Augusta Longbottom's fourth year in Hogwarts.

Prompts:

2: detention

12: "return the favour"

15: Bring him home, from Les Miserables

A tall, thin, gangly girl, who looked like she had grown more than she could control, walked quickly across the small courtyard and into the shade of the covered walkway, her books clutched to her chest, her robes, slightly too short, lapping around her ankles. To anybody else she looked like a normal fourth year, hurrying off to get some last minute revision done before the exams that started in the afternoon. They couldn't have known that, clutched to her chest and hidden behind the dusty tomes, was a letter that could change her life.

She turned seemingly randomly down the corridors, with no obvious pattern, eventually coming to stop at a stone alcove. She sat down, dumping the heavy books down and closing her eyes for a second, stretching the skin on her forehead even more; it was already taught from the tight bun her chestnut hair was scraped back into. A group of giggling first years passed and her eyes snapped up, her face burning with embarrassment, though they hardly noticed her. When their noise was just an echo in the distance, she pulled out the letter and gently teased open the letter. Her eyes flickered down the neat handwriting as she gently whispered the words out loud.

 _"My dearest Augusta,_

 _I hope all is well with you, and you are studying hard for the exams. Your Father has not written back yet. Dumbledore has gone to investigate. Your brother has got dragon pox, so we've had to keep him at home all week. Tensions are fraying and he can't understand where his Daddy is. Neville says the security at the Ministry is much stronger, but people stop coming into work every day. Stay strong and remember what your Father's fighting for; your freedom. I'll see you this summer._

 _Mother"_

The last emotionless words were a smudge of purple as a fat tear rolled down her pale cheeks. He wasn't safe. He wasn't home yet. Her sleepless nights and zombie like days weren't over yet.

She stood up slowly and paced, thoughts running through her head. How could she keep him safe? She couldn't. She felt so helpless, stuck here, unable to do magic in the real world. And even if she could she wouldn't be any help – she was unable to do Charms and she struggled at Defence Against the Dark Arts. The only thing she was good at was Transfiguration, and even then it was a feeble attempt against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. Augusta wasn't a sheltered child; her parents openly talked about the Order of the Phoenix and they discussed Daily Prophet articles at length with her. This set her apart from the other children in her year, who cared more about their homework and Quidditch and what was for dinner than the war that was roaring outside of the castle walls. But who could blame them? Augusta would probably be one of them too, giggling over the latest Witch Weekly or lining up to goggle at the handsome seventh years as they came out of the library, jostling for the best view. And instead she was shouldering the responsibility of someone double her age, spending every waking hour hoping for good news.

The bell went and Augusta was shaken out of her daze. She glanced around, realising it was the first afternoon period in the Greenhouses for Herbology, and hurried down the flights of stairs. She was at the top of the school; there was no way she would make it there in time. She flew down the flights of stairs, her feet hardly touching each step, her mind subconsciously angling her legs away from the disappearing step. She knew the castle so well she could take a quick shortcut, but she still arrived late, panting and sweaty.

The class was already seated, and Professor Borret was in deep flow as she burst through the door. She knew she in trouble the moment he stopped, mid-sentence, to turn and survey her.

"Augusta Longbottom. Late again." He drawled in his American accent.

The class tittered slightly. Augusta wasn't unpopular, but she wasn't popular; spending most of her lunchtimes alone or with the group of Ravenclaws and a few other Gryffindors that didn't really fit into any other clique.

"Sorry to have disrupted your day." Borret said sarcastically. Augusta hated his sarcasm, and his prolonged deliverance. "But we were just coming on to what was going to be in your exam. And while _you_ may not think this is important, it is the last exams before your OWLs, though I'm sure you think you'll get all Os."

The laugh was louder this time. Augusta was known for being a swot, and many people had speculated about why she wasn't in Ravenclaw, not always behind her back. Little did they know the burden of knowledge that she was living with, or her fearless dream of helping to fight back to Voldemort.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like you in detention, tomorrow, at five o'clock."

He turned back to the class, finished with Augusta. She scurried to her seat, anger coursing through her veins. She wished she could just get out her wand and curse him until he stopped smirking at her. The idea made her feel marginally better.

The bell went and she scurried out of the classroom, nearly tripping on a large flowerpot that was positioned lethally by the door. She was caught just in time by a strong hand, and she stumbled to right herself. Turning round, she saw Jack Metcalf, a Ravenclaw who she stood next to in Herbology occasionally.

"Careful there." He said, smiling slightly. Something about it made Augusta shiver slightly. He started walking, turning his body slightly to signify that Augusta should follow. Surprising herself, Augusta did, scurrying to catch up with him.

"Thanks for catching me there." Augusta said, surprising herself again; usually she was shy around people she didn't know well.

"It was nothing." Jack said, the sunlight catching his chestnut hair. "Although you could return the favour..." he tailed off, looking at Augusta. "The fourth years have a trip to Hogsmeade next weekend," he said lightly. "We could get a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks if you want?"

Augusta blushed profusely, and wished she still had her low cut brown fringe, which she could hide behind at moments like this. Truth be told, Augusta had always been slightly neglected. Not physically – for she had excellent health and was strong and fit and had never been to the doctors. But her Father had been busy and her Mother trying to keep the family afloat. While they often talked with her about current affairs and working hard, she couldn't remember the last time they had turned round and said they loved her, or kissed her on the top of her head and told her she was safe.

Because of this she struggled to find something to say to Jack. Did she want to go to the Three Broomsticks with him? Yes! It would be fun, and they would have a laugh. And she didn't have anyone else to go with. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She made a faint gasping sound. Jack went red and looked at his feet.

"It's fine; we could always arrange something else." And he swept off, catching up with his other friends. Augusta didn't have the courage to call after him.

Maybe it was for the best. This way she could wait in the Owlery for news to come. She couldn't betray her Father while he was still missing. And she needed to study. Yes. This was for the best.


End file.
